I am not a weakling
I am a fighter
Those are not bruises
Those are trials
These are not cuts
They're battle wounds
That's not blood
It's freedom
I'm a Freedom Fighter


  ~Corona Harris~

Show me how you cry.
Show me how you drink red wine
and pass the time.
Show me how you freak out,
how you clasp your palms
through moments of doubt,
careful to let nothing slip out;
let nothing recede the paint on your face-
I know that your careful eyeliner
is the borderline to help you find your place.
Show me how you sleep.
Show me how you
fall into routine;
show me how you have learned to stumble through life
and look as if you have not missed a stride.
Show me the freckle
on your inner thigh,
show me how you drink red wine,
show me how sometimes, you want to die.
Show me how you cry.

We kiss like we invented it.

"you didn't dry yourself off very well,"
you tell me while running a towel over my back
I am bare and vulnerable but
I do not care at all

we are post-shower standing on bathroom floor
bodies making puddles between cracks in white tile
laughing as we watch our reflections
dance in routine

my hair is curling and yesterday's mascara is crawling its way down my cheeks
I look more wet dog coming home drenched after thunderstorm than I do human but
I do not care at all

you wrap the fabric around the parts I didn't get on purpose
I keep my raw, the usually covered skin out in the open
I'm thinking about all the ways I can make you stay and
this is just one of them

.
...
.......
Then I never saw you
even didn't hear that song again
how everything got lost in uncertain
begins the rules of funeral  

Those morning dews,
how beautiful  the silver shines!
surely lost after a few hours
ah! the dreams grew and lost in daylight  

Moonlight falls on this large meadow
Certainly clears my distinct shadow
what a brightness in the face of horizon
get lost after the clouds covered

Hope grows love
where river moves towards the upstream
when loses
the time, untimely  

Love is a foolish pride
Find after lost,
as the day within the days,
daily

Lonely time as the pain of the poetry
In words, paper of poetry submerged
Find thy, say into the darkness
what a restless mind, drunk!
...
..
.
@Musfiq us shaleheen